


Life Happened

by ammiehawk



Category: Gundam Wing, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8953906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ammiehawk/pseuds/ammiehawk
Summary: After the events of the Goblet of Fire, Harry gets some surprising news. Now with the help of friends, both old and new, he prepares for his greatest adventure yet. Prequel to Hurry Home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> We are in the home stretch at the Tenth Day of Christmas. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

 

“I will say it again,” said Dumbledore, as the phoenix rose into the air and resettled itself upon the perch beside the door. “You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard’s burden and found yourself equal to it—and you have now given us all we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace… Sirius would you like to stay with him?”

Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed back into the great black dog and walked with Harry and Dumbledore out of the office, accompanying them down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing.

When Dumbledore pushed open the door, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him. All of them whipped around as Harry, Dumbledore, and the black dog entered, and Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream.

“Harry! Oh Harry!”

She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore moved between them.

“Molly,” he said, holding up a hand, “please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him,” he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione, and Bill too, “you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She rounded on Ron, Hermione, and Bill as though they were being noisy and hissed, “Did you hear? He needs quiet!”

“Headmaster,” said Madam Pomfrey staring at the great black dog that was Sirius, “may I ask what—?”

“This dog will be remaining with Harry for awhile,” said Dumbledore simply. “I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry—I will wait while you get into bed.”

Harry felt an inexpressible sense of gratitude to Dumbledore for asking the others not to question him. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want them there; but the thought of explaining it all over again, the idea of reliving it one more time, was more than he could stand.

“I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school.” He left.

As Madam Pomfrey led Harry to a nearby bed, he caught sight of the real Moody lying motionless in a bed at the far end of the room. His wooden leg and magical eye were lying on the bedside table.

“Is he okay?” Harry asked.

“He’ll be fine,” said Madam Pomfrey, giving Harry some pajamas and pulling screens around him. She did a few preliminary scans and then took her leave. He took off his robes, pulled on the pajamas, and got into bed. Ron, Hermione, Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and the black dog came around the screen and settled themselves in chairs on either side of him. Ron and Hermione were looking at him almost cautiously, as though scared of him.

“I’m all right,” he told them. “Just tired.”

Mrs. Weasley’s eyes filled with tears as she smoothed his bedcovers unnecessarily.

Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a small bottle of some purple potion and a goblet, a scowl firmly planted on her face.

“I need a moment, please,” she addressed the assembled crowd, “Mr. Potter and I need to have a word, privately.”

The group shared confused looks, but complied. Once they were beyond the screens, Madam Pomfrey threw up a few privacy spells and turned to face her patient.

“Mr. Potter, I have a few things to discuss with you and I need you to be completely honest with me, no matter how embarrassing you think the questions are,” she said sternly.

“O-Okay,” he replied a bit hesitantly.

“When did you start having sex?” she began abruptly.

“Wh-what?” his eyes widened exponentially. “Why would you want to know that?”

“Just answer the question, Mr. Potter,” she leveled him with a stern glare.

“Um, Fe-February,” he stuttered, a blush blossoming on his cheeks.

“That makes sense,” she nodded. “Now, have you had multiple partners or just one?”

“One,” he shook his head. “Why is this important?”

“Alright,” she continued, ignoring the question. “Were there multiple encounters, or just the one?”

“Multiple,” he fiddled with the sleeve of his pajamas.

“I see,” she consulted the scroll she’d been jotting down notes on. “Well, I’m going to have to examine your memories to see exactly what went wrong.”

“How would you do that?” he asked confused.

“I just need you to think about the encounters,” she gave him a look. “Not the actual act itself, but the beforehand conversations or acts, and after. This is all from a professional standpoint, I assure you.”

“Why do you need to know all this?” he posed after she had collected the memories she needed.

“Because, Mr. Potter, in a rare magical and medical feat, you have become pregnant,” she put a stopper on the bottle of memories. “I’m now trying to figure out how exactly this happened. For now, though, you’ll need to drink all of this,” she poured the potion she’d brought with her into the goblet. “It’s a potions for dreamless sleep, and completely safe for the baby.”

Harry took the goblet and numbly drank a few mouthfuls. He felt himself becoming drowsy at once. Everything around him became hazy; the lamps around the hospital wing seemed to be winking at him in a friendly way through the screen around his bed, as the others trooped back around his bed; his body felt as though it was sinking deeper into the warmth of the feather mattress. Before he could finish the potion, before he could say another word, his exhaustion had carried him off to sleep.

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When he looked back, even a month later, Harry found he had only scattered memories of the next few days. It was as though he had been through too much to take in any more. The recollections he did have were very painful. The worst, perhaps, was the meeting with the Diggorys that took place the following morning.

They did not blame him for what had happened; on the contrary both thanked him for returning Cedric’s body to them. Mr. Diggory sobbed through most of the interview. Mrs. Diggory’s grief seemed to be beyond tears.

“He suffered very little then,” she said, when Harry had told her how Cedric had died. “And after all, Amos… he died just when he’d won the tournament. He must have been happy.”

When they got to their feet, she looked down at Harry and said, “You look after yourself, now.”

Harry seized the sack of gold on the bedside table.

“You take this,” he muttered to her. “It should’ve been Cedric’s, he got there first, you take it—”

But she backed away from him.

“I see you did not tell them,” she noted, placing the other vials down.

“Should I have?” he asked hesitantly.

“If you plan on keeping the child, then yes, you should inform them as it is their grandchild,” she sighed and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “However, it would be best to keep your pregnancy a secret. As I mentioned last night, it is rare for male wizards to become pregnant without substantial outside aid. However, I do believe I have discovered how this happened.”

“How?” his hand subconsciously fell to protect his stomach.

“Well,” she folded her hands on her lap, “it appears that Mr. Diggory was trying to be safe when the two of you had sex. But, the spell he used, while highly effective in normal circumstances, is meant for use on females. So the best I can figure is that the spell, without the appropriate parts to protect, created them. However, by redirecting the magic, the original spell was weakened by at least fifty percent, and at a ninety-five percent rate, that brings the total efficiency down to forty-five, and that is a best case scenario, which leads us to your current condition.

“Now,” she gave a heavy sigh, “before you have any more visitors, there are a few things that need to be decided. First and foremost, do you want to keep the baby or terminate the pregnancy?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” he stuttered, burying his face in his hands. This was just too much to take in at one time.

“Harry, I know this is a big decision, but no one can make it for you,” she patted his calf in a comforting fashion. “I can give you up until the last day of term to decide. Though if you do decide to terminate, I will need to know forty-eight hours before you leave so you can properly heal before going home.”

“O-Okay,” he nodded.

“Alright then,” she pushed to her feet, summoning a potion from a nearby shelf. “I want you to gather your memories, and take this potion. I will be back shortly, I have a few tests I need to run. If everything goes well, you should be able to leave here by this evening.”

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Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower the following evening. From what Hermione and Ron told him, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Harry alone, that nobody ask him questions or badger him to tell the story of what had happened in the maze. Most people, he noticed, were skirting him in the corridors, avoiding his eyes. Some whispered behind their hands as he passed. He guessed that many of them had believed Rita Skeeter’s article about how disturbed and possibly dangerous he was. Perhaps they were formulating their own theories about how Cedric had died. He found he didn’t care very much. He liked it best when he was with Ron and Hermione and they were talking about other things, or else letting him sit in silence while they played chess. He felt as though all three of them had reached an understanding they didn’t need to put into words; that each was waiting for some sign, some word, of what was going on outside Hogwarts—and that it was useless to speculate about what might be coming until they knew anything for certain. The only time they touched upon the subject was when Ron told Harry about a meeting Mrs. Weasley had had with Dumbledore before going home.

“She went to ask him if you could come straight to us this summer,” he said. “But he wants you to go back to the Dursleys, at least at first.”

“Why?” said Harry.

“She said Dumbledore’s got his reasons,” said Ron, shaking his head darkly. “I suppose we’ve got to trust him, haven’t we?”

“I guess,” Harry shrugged, absentmindedly rubbing his stomach.

“Is everything okay, Harry?” Hermione asked with a frown. “I mean, I know everything’s not okay, but you seem really distracted by something else.”

Harry sighed and quickly scanned the common room. There were small groups scattered here and there and none of them seemed to be paying the trio any undue attention, but he didn’t want to talk in front of anyone else.

“Not here,” he whispered. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

The trio trooped out of the common room and quickly located the closest empty classroom. After making sure no one was around to overhear, Harry took a seat at one of the desks and turned his full attention to his best friends.

“Before I tell you,” he sighed, running his hands through his hair, “I need you both to promise me you won’t tell anyone about this, and I mean no one.”

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione said immediately. “You know we’d never tell.”

“As if you’d even have to ask,” Ron agreed.

“Thanks guys,” he smiled faintly. “Well, according to Madam Pomfrey, I’m pregnant.”

“But… but that’s not possible,” the bushy haired witch interjected. “I’ve never read anywhere about the possibility of a male getting pregnant.”

“There’ve been studies on ways to make it possible, potions and spells and stuff, but none of those have ever worked,” Ron shrugged. And then noticing their incredulous looks, “What? Charlie brought some stuff home with him over the summer, I stumbled across it and was bored so I read it.”

“Anyway, yeah,” the raven haired teen shook his head, “Madam Pomfrey said it was rare. She said it was a misused spell. I don’t remember all the details, but yeah, I’m pregnant. And I have till the end of term to decide whether I’m going to keep it or not.”

“What do you mean, you have till the end of term?” Hermione asked incredulously. “You could always give it up for adoption.”

“No, termination is easier and less messy,” Ron shook his head.

“What?!” the witch turned on him.

“Look, adoption isn’t really a thing in the Wizarding world,” the redhead shrugged.

“Oh, and why not?” she demanded.

“Because no one wants a squib brought into their family,” blue eyes rolled in annoyance. “It’s bad enough when a child is born into the family like that, much less bringing it into the family from the outside. And the reverse is true for Muggle adoptions. Termination is better, the right potion or a quick spell, it’s done, no mess to deal with later, nothing.”

“That’s just horrible,” Hermione said aghast.

“It’s just how it is, Hermione,” Ron scoffed. “Anyway, Harry, who’s the other dad? I mean, I didn’t even know you were into guys, much less doing… you know,” he blushed scarlet.

“I didn’t either,” Harry shrugged, joining his friend in blushing. “It just kinda happened.”

“Who was it, Harry?” Hermione urged, seeing as he wasn’t going to say more.

“Cedric,” Harry muttered quietly, but they caught it just fine.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione covered her mouth with her hands, as tears filled her eyes.

“That sucks, mate,” Ron gave him a sympathetic look. “I wouldn’t get rid of it, then.”

“Why do you say that?” emerald eyes peeked out from beneath his bangs.

“Well, think about it this way,” the redhead scratched his nose, “you’re kid is the only thing left of Cedric there is. Then again, you might not want that constant reminder. So ultimately, the choice is up to you.”

“Harry, I think you should keep it,” Hermione sighed. “But Ron’s right, the choice is yours, and we’ll be here for you no matter what you choose.”

“Thanks guys,” Harry gave them a weak smile. “I still need to think about this, but it’s nice to know you’ll be there for me no matter what.”

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Harry made his way up to the hospital wing two days before the term ended, as Madam Pomfrey had requested. He wasn’t sure whether he was making the right decision or not, but he had made up his mind and he’d just have to live with the consequences from here on out.

When he finally arrived, he began looking around for the nurse. She wasn’t anywhere in sight, so he made his way over to her office and knocked on the door.

“I’ll be right out,” Madam Pomfrey called. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Harry turned from the door and went over to the nearest bed. He hopped up on the end and began nervously fidgeting with the bed cover.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” the nurse said as she exited her office, “I take it you’ve made your decision?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Well?” she prodded. “What will it be?”

“I-I’ve decided to keep it,” he continued fidgeting.

“I see,” she nodded. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Well, in that case, I’ve got some potions for you, as well as a list of things you are to do, and a list of things that need to be avoided,” she handed him a small pouch and a parchment. “Now, I’m going to go fetch the headmaster, as we will need to discuss what is to be done for the summer. Start reading, and take this,” she handed him another potion before disappearing back into her office.

Harry had just finished the potion when the nurse reappeared, followed closely by Dumbledore. The aged headmaster was having difficulty hiding his confusion as to why he’d been called to the hospital wing, and why Harry was also there.

“Headmaster,” Madam Pomfrey began, “I have brought you here to discuss what is to happen with Mr. Potter over the summer holiday.”

“I don’t see what there is to discuss,” Dumbledore gave an indulgent smile. “Harry will be returning to his relatives, as he usually does, and we’ll see what happens after that.”

“No, he will not,” she shook her head. “He will be remaining here at Hogwarts, where I can monitor his condition for the foreseeable future.”

“Madam Pomfrey,” his voice became very indulgent, “you know that students do not remain at Hogwarts over the summer break, as not even all the staff remains.”

“Be that as it may,” Harry’s eyes darted between the pair, as if watching a verbal tennis match, “I will be remaining at Hogwarts with Mr. Potter so I can monitor him.”

“You assured me, Madam Pomfrey, that Harry was fine when you released him from the hospital wing.”

“And physically he is fine,” she conceded. “However, as there are no documented cases of male pregnancy to fall back on, as his primary Healer, it is my duty to monitor him over the course of his pregnancy to make sure no complications arise. Unless, of course, you’d like for me to accompany him to his relatives, posing a possibly severe breech in Wizarding/Muggle relations?”

“Well then,” Dumbledore was completely floored by this announcement, “I concede your point. Very well, I will see about arranging quarters for Harry, more centrally located, as Gryffindor Tower is fairly isolated and will be closed off for the break. I will also inform his relatives that he will not be joining them this summer. And Harry,” he turned to face the young Gryffindor, “I cannot stress enough how important it is that this remain a secret, if this information fell into the wrong hands it could be disastrous, I know I cannot forbid you from telling young Ron and Hermione, but no one else. Do I have your word?”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded.

“Good,” his eyes regained their usual twinkle. “And I believe congratulations are in order. I wish you the best of luck, and have a good summer.”

With that, he took his leave.


End file.
